Just As It Should Be
by sugah66
Summary: What exactly did Trip and T'Pol do on that long trip to Vulcan? In response to the 24 day challenge on the HoT bulletin board. COMPLETE. Mostly PGPG-13 but rated R for later chapters. My first attempt at fanfiction. Please R&R!
1. Day 1

**TITLE: Just As It Should Be  
AUTHOR: Sugah Sugah  
SUMMARY: Just what exactly did Trip and T'Pol do on that long trip to Vulcan? In response to agentj's "24 Day Challenge" on the HoTBBS.  
SPOILERS: Through "Home" (season 4, episode 3)  
PAIRING: Trip/T'Pol, obviously.  
RATING: M -- language, suggestive dialogue, some (pretty weak) sexual content in the last like 3 or 4 chapters.  
****AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so please be kind.  
****DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except a rusted piece of metal I call a car and about 20 thousand in student loans. I make no profit from this, just satisfying my muse (who unfortunately is not on Paramount's payroll -- yet).**

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**Day 1**

Vulcan was sixteen light years from Earth, which meant that the journey would take at least three weeks. Trip hoped the entire voyage didn't pass as the past few hours had, which included him staring out the window of the shuttle while T'Pol meditated in the seat beside him. He was the only human on a ship full of Vulcans, who all stared at him as if he were diseased, and the only Vulcan he cared to have a conversation with was occupied at the moment.

He opened the book he'd brought, _Catch-22_ – one of many, actually. He knew that the trip would take some time and had brought every book he owned, but at this rate he'd have them all read in a week. His eyes scanned the first line once, twice, three times before he realized that he hadn't retained a word of it. He was too preoccupied with T'Pol's close proximity – the smell of her, the feel of her as she accidentally brushed against him. It took all the willpower he possessed not to lean in and nuzzle the pulse point of her neck. He couldn't guess what her reaction would be, but he sure as hell knew how the rest of the shuttle's occupants would react. He wasn't willing to risk it.

But the fact remained that, as long as he sat beside T'Pol, he was unable to concentrate. Yet he didn't want to move. He would rather stay seated, next to T'Pol and completely unfocused, than hole up in his quarters alone.

The Vulcan shuttle was odd, to say the least. Not what he'd been expecting. The top deck was the observation lounge, which was full of seats arranged in rows much like a commercial transport shuttle. The seats were arranged in groups of four, two facing the rear of the craft and two facing the front, lining both sides of the ship with an aisle in between. Trip and T'Pol occupied one section on the starboard side, near the back.

The bottom decks contained small sleeping quarters designed for only one occupant. It would take some squeezing to fit two people in one of the narrow beds, not that Trip had considered anything like that. And it didn't matter, because T'Pol would never do anything that would give the other Vulcans the wrong idea about the two of them. The last thing she needed, after everything she'd gone through, was to be scorned for having relations with a human.

Desperate for conversation, he waited another five minutes and then gently nudged T'Pol in the arm with his elbow. She lazily opened her eyes and glanced at him. Her expression was neutral, but the flash in her eyes clearly conveyed her annoyance at being interrupted.

"Sorry," Trip said. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Was there something you wanted?"

He nodded. "Think you could teach me how to do that?"

"Do what?"

He gestured at her rigid posture – her legs folded beneath her, Indian-style, her hands resting on top of her knees, her back ramrod straight. "That."

"You wish to learn meditation?" She sounded surprised.

He shrugged halfheartedly. "It's a long trip. Gotta have somethin' to do, especially if I can count on you bein' quiet the whole time." Besides, with his eyes closed, he wouldn't be able to see the sharp looks being thrown at him from all directions.

A light flickered in her eyes. She seemed to be gauging the sincerity of his remark. She nodded, apparently satisfied. "It's quite similar to neuro-pressure, actually," she said. "Just not as…intimate." She lowered her voice as she finished, either because of emotion or because she didn't want the other passengers to overhear. Trip would've put money on the second reason, though his heart ached for the first.

Several of the other passengers glanced in their direction, and Trip remembered that Vulcans had much better hearing. Perhaps they had overheard the conversation anyway and were formulating their own theories as to the relationship between the human and the Vulcan.

Trip swallowed and turned his attention back to T'Pol.

"Sit like this," T'Pol said, indicating her posture.

He folded his legs underneath him, though it took considerable effort. The seat did not seem to be made for this. Eventually he realized that, as long as he sat next to T'Pol, he didn't have enough space. He reluctantly moved to the seats opposite them, so that he was facing her, and tried again. When his legs were positioned properly, he straightened, pulling his back away from the seat, and let his hands rest lightly on his knees. He looked at T'Pol.

She nodded her approval, closing her eyes. He followed suit.

"Deep breaths," he heard her say. "Concentrate on emptying your mind of conscious thought."

Trip adopted the breathing exercises he had used during their neuro-pressure sessions. It had been a while since they'd had a session. Of course, Trip remembered vividly what had transpired during their last one. The night was seared onto his psyche like a brand; he was fairly certain he would remember that night for the rest of his life. He could still taste her. He could still feel her fingers on his face. He could still smell her skin. His entire body had felt on fire, like he was burning from the inside out. It was so intense that there were times he couldn't even breathe, but he hadn't wanted it to stop. God, he'd wanted that night to last forever.

He shook the images from his brain. He opened one eye and saw that T'Pol was still in meditation. She didn't seem to notice his shallow breathing or the fact that he was sweating profusely. Or maybe she did notice and was ignoring him.

He took a deep, calming breath and tried again.

Unbidden, images of T'Pol flashed behind his eyes, like a montage from one of those old romantic comedies.

_T'Pol in decontamination, under the electric blue lights._

_T'Pol wearing that red number, asking him for help with her engagement._

_T'Pol in native Akaali garb, with long hair._

_T'Pol in that skintight white catsuit._

_T'Pol informing him and the captain of the subtle subplot of Frankenstein._

_T'Pol undoing the buttons on her pajama top during their first neuro-pressure session._

_T'Pol eating peaches._

_T'Pol letting her robe fall to the floor._

_T'Pol comforting him as he finally came to terms with his sister's death._

_T'Pol finally calling him "Trip" instead of "Commander"._

_T'Pol admitting her age after three years of his incessant teasing._

Everything came back to T'Pol. No matter what he did to clear his mind of all thoughts, T'Pol would find her way back into his head. He couldn't stop the images, nor did he want to. In fact, he lingered on some of them longer then others, and went back to see them again. God, she was beautiful. Intelligent. Compassionate. Independent. Loyal. Determined. Why had it taken three years for them to act on the attraction that so clearly existed between them?

Abruptly, he stood, unable to concentrate. T'Pol's eyes snapped open in surprise.

"Commander," she said, "are you all right?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to ignore the obvious concern in her eyes. "Uh, yeah. Just a headache. I'm, uh, gonna go lie down for a while."

She nodded slowly. "I shall inform you when dinner is served."

Trip grimaced, remembering the less than edible concoction they'd tried to pass off as lunch, but gave a short nod. "Okay. See ya later."

He headed to the lower decks, in desperate need of a cold shower.


	2. Day 2

Day 2 

T'Pol was concerned with Trip's behavior. She had barely seen him since his futile attempt at meditation the day before, when he had practically run to the lower decks to take refuge in his quarters. He shouldn't have been embarrassed; many humans didn't understand the complexities of meditation, and few managed to master the art on their first try. Trip, though, had seemed almost frantic after only a few minutes. She was greatly troubled by his reaction to meditation. She'd been very pleased when he expressed the interest to learn it, and she was more than happy to teach him. He had grasped the concept of neuro-pressure after only a few sessions, so she assumed he would take to meditation the same way.

But what troubled her most was that she had felt his anxiety before it was evident in his behavior. That is, she could tell that something was troubling him before he ceased his meditation exercises and got to his feet. The very thought that she could sense his mood was unnerving.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had been able to sense Trip's emotions for quite some time. She just had not consciously been aware of it. That alone was upsetting, because it meant that she had recognized it on a subconscious level, and Vulcans did not believe in the subconscious. The presence of the subconscious undermined logic, suggesting that there was something else behind decisions. Vulcans, who based everything – every choice, every decision, every aspect of life – on logic, could not afford to be swayed by the actions of the subconscious, and so refused to concede its existence.

Humans, she knew, believed in the subconscious, and blamed much of their behavior on it, which was perhaps one reason why Vulcans did not acknowledge it. She had heard Trip comment more than once that "on a subconscious level, I think I knew what I was doin'".

Still, many of her choices of the past year could have hardly been based in logic. It was not logical to agree to perform neuro-pressure on the commander. It was not logical to acquiesce to her Trellium-D addiction. It certainly was not logical to have sexual relations with Trip. Were these decisions based on the subconscious?

She knew, of course, that her instigating a physical relationship with the commander was due to her attraction toward him. Perhaps, subconsciously, she had been attracted to Trip before agreeing to the neuro-pressure sessions, which was why she had consented to them in the first place. He was an attractive male, something not biased to his being human. She recognized beauty when she saw it, and the commander certainly was a fine specimen.

There were times over the past three years when she considered him a friend – even before the neuro-pressure sessions began. He had proven himself to be discreet and compassionate when giving her advice on how to deal with her situation with Koss. And he had seemed pleased when she ultimately decided to remain on _Enterprise_ rather than return to Vulcan to be married.

And the Trellium? Perhaps that had been an excuse to act on her attraction. Then she would have something on which to blame her actions.

She was unsure how other Vulcans would respond if they knew what she had done. Mating with a human, even once, was not seen favorably by the vast majority of the Vulcan population. At least she had not bonded with him, though several times during their coupling she had been tempted to do just that. Since Vulcans were touch-telepaths, she had been able to sense Trip's feelings during their…impassioned struggle, and she had sensed that the feelings to which Sim had confessed most definitely belonged to the commander as well. The entire time they were joined, she had felt connected to him. That connection almost inspired her to seek out the contact points that would have linked them in a bonding meld.

Bonding with Trip would have been inexcusable, which was why she had refrained. And even though it had been months since their night together, she still felt a connection with him. Yet she had not recognized that connection for what it was until just moments ago.

T'Pol opened her eyes. Her restlessness had not been eased by meditation, as she'd hoped it would be. Perhaps food would succeed where meditation had failed.

As she rose from her bed and walked to the door, she thought it a shame that other Vulcans had not discovered the joy of pecan pie.


	3. Day 3

Day 3 

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._

Focusing on his breathing was the only thing that prevented Trip from thinking about T'Pol during meditation, which he had taken to doing in his quarters instead of on the observation deck. It was difficult to be in such close proximity to her. He hadn't really noticed during their mission to find the Xindi because he was preoccupied with other things, but now that he had nothing else to focus on, he found himself concentrating on her bottomless eyes, her full lips…

A knock on the door interrupted his thought processes, for which he was grateful. Another few minutes along that tangent, and he'd need to take another shower. Of course, he knew who was at the door. There was only one person it could be.

T'Pol opened the door and was inside the room before he had even gotten off the bed.

"Geez, T'Pol," Trip said, though he was hardly annoyed at the interruption, "I could've been naked in here, for all you know."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Commander," she said.

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing, wondering what happened to her calling him "Trip". In public, at least, he knew she would call him "Commander" because of the way Vulcans viewed calling people by their first names. But in private, he had hoped she would call him by his nickname.

"What are you doin' here? It's not even close to dinner yet."

T'Pol was never one to beat around the bush, and so she got right to the point of her visit. "You are avoiding me."

"No, I'm not." But he was. He had been for the past two days, except during meals. He didn't trust himself around her, and not even the constant scrutiny of almost two dozen Vulcans could kill the sudden urges he got when she was nearby. He reasoned that, by avoiding her, he could avoid an interspecies incident.

Being apart from her, however, did nothing. In fact, his desire for her intensified. So much so that he was incapable of expelling her almost constant presence from his mind. He awoke at night still half aroused from fevered dreams that involved the two of them being stranded on away missions and needing each other for warmth. He couldn't remember having ever been so gone on a woman before – not to the point where she took over his mind, the way it seemed T'Pol had.

"I'm not avoidin' you," he said. "I just don't feel comfortable around the other passengers."

Her face remained expressionless, but he had long ago learned to look at her eyes to discern what she was thinking. To his surprise, he saw anger there. "I am uncomfortable around humans, yet I continue as if I am not. There are times when we must do things which make us uncomfortable, simply because they must be done."

He looked up at her. "Do all humans make you uncomfortable?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Commander, have you heard nothing I said?"

"I heard what I wanted to hear," he said, standing. He walked over to her until their faces were just inches apart. "Now answer the question. Do all humans make you uncomfortable?"

She looked up at him, her eyes liquid. "Yes."

Not the answer he'd been expecting.

"I make you uncomfortable?" he asked, stunned.

She nodded, unable to look him in the eye. "Yes."

He thought she'd opened up to him. He thought that their neuro-pressure sessions had led to a close relationship. Hell, he considered her his best friend on the ship – even above the captain. But apparently he was the only one who felt that way, if she still wasn't comfortable in his presence.

No, that couldn't be right. Something just wasn't adding up.

He reached up to brush her face with his fingers. "Then why'd you invite me to come to Vulcan with you?"

The second his fingers touched her face it was like touching an electric fence. It was instantaneous – a blinding white flash that almost ripped the breath from his body. He reluctantly pulled his hand away, and she used the pause to back away from him. "Commander, would you like to join me on the observation deck?"

Well, that was a no-brainer.

"Just let me get my shoes."


	4. Day 4

Day 4 

"I just hate to think of what's happenin' there without me," Trip said, finally ending his diatribe on _Enterprise's_ refit, which was being done without his help. He talked of little else, and T'Pol knew that he was upset at the captain's "order'' that he take shore leave. But she also knew that it would greatly benefit the commander to have some time away from the ship. The months in the Expanse had worn him – and the rest of the crew, including her – down. Even now, though he may have said otherwise, she could see that the break was improving his mood.

"Commander," T'Pol said, lowering her mug of tea, "the repair crew is more than capable of refitting _Enterprise_ without your supervision."

He only looked slightly annoyed as he stirred his plo'mik soup. "That's what the cap'n said."

"Captain Archer has been known to be correct, on occasion."

He glanced up at her, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were makin' a joke." He lifted a spoonful of soup, then tilted the spoon, allowing the contents to drip back into the bowl. It was not the first time he had done that, and the action irritated T'Pol.

It was that irritation, more than anything, that prompted her next remark. "Then it appears that you do not know any better, Commander."

He set his spoon down and looked at her, folding his arms on the table. He didn't look angered by her comment. In fact, he looked concerned, which only served to irritate her further, something that she could not explain. "Is everythin' okay? You've been actin' kinda funny today."

She debated how best to answer that question. On the surface, she and Trip were having a rather pleasant trip so far. Though he had spent much of the first three days avoiding her, for reasons she had yet to determine, she was beginning to enjoy the journey. During their time in the Expanse, most of the time she spent with him was work-related – except for their neuro-pressure sessions – and she found herself illogically missing that one-on-one time. She had been looking forward to being alone with him without explosions, alien encounters, or attacks to interrupt them.

Yesterday, when she had gone to his quarters to learn why he was avoiding her, he had touched her face. She felt the consequences of that seemingly unconscious action still. He had almost, unwittingly, opened his mind to her – an act that would have been irreversible and unforgivable. The brief contact had given her a glimpse into his mind before she realized what was happening and put up her mental defenses. He removed his fingers from her face, and neither had mentioned the incident.

He was still staring at her, waiting for her response. "I am," she searched for the correct term, "concerned with how my mother will react to your presence."

She was uncertain as to why she lied. Lying was a practice in which she did not often engage, but she found it necessary at that moment to conceal the truth from him. Mostly because even she was unsure of what the truth was, but also because she did not want to discuss such a topic in the presence of other Vulcans.

For a second, she was afraid that he didn't believe her. Then his face split into a wide grin. It had been quite some time since she had seen such a genuine smile on his face. She had greatly missed his smile. "Don't worry," he said. "Moms love me."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, which only made his grin wider. "You have never met a Vulcan mother."

He shrugged. "Guess not. But it can't be much different than meetin' a human mom, can it? Just assure her that I have nothin' but the best intentions toward her daughter – "

She tensed, quickly glancing about to make sure no one had overheard their conversation. The commander broke off in the middle of his sentence and didn't finish his thought. He picked up his spoon and returned to stirring his soup. She would have given anything to wipe the look of dejection from his face. When he spoke again, he sounded hurt. "I was jokin', T'Pol. I'd never say anythin' to your mom."

"I know, Commander," she said. "However, it is not prudent to joke about such things."

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, sure. Don't want the wrong people overhearin' us, now do we? Bad enough half of _Enterprise_ talks about us."

T'Pol leaned forward on her elbows, closer to Trip, so that she could lower her voice. Hopefully, her next words would be too quiet for even Vulcan ears to hear. "I am unconcerned with the crew of _Enterprise_. The rumors they have spread are not unfounded. But my people are not as open-minded as yours, Commander. Their reaction would not be advantageous to our situation."

He cocked an eyebrow at that and leaned forward to meet her halfway across the table. "And what is our situation, Subcommander?"

She hesitated, guilty of the very human slip of the tongue. She regained her senses as quickly as she could manage and gave him a look as if the answer should be obvious. "We still have twenty days on this shuttle."

Trip sank back in his chair. The dejected look had returned full force. "Right."

When he left to clear their plates, she took a breath to compose herself. She was beginning to rethink her decision to invite him. What had she been thinking?

The answer was evident. She hadn't been thinking.


	5. Day 5

**A/N:** All Vulcan words come from the Vulcan Language Dictionary, a useful website that has come in handy numerous times.

Day 5

Trip was beginning to rethink his decision to learn Vulcan. The language was a lot harder than he'd anticipated. But he wanted to make a good impression on T'Pol's mother, because he was sure that she would not like his accompanying her daughter. Especially because he had a feeling that T'Pol had neglected to inform her mother that he would be coming.

He'd brought the idea up to T'Pol as casually as possible, over breakfast that morning. She had been acting distant toward him, and he hoped that learning Vulcan would bring back some of the closeness they'd enjoyed during their neuro-pressure sessions. She had actually seemed thrilled that he was showing such an interest in her culture, and commented that it would probably be wise to know at least some of the basic phrases.

"My mother will no doubt be impressed that you took the time to learn," T'Pol had said. "Vulcan is not an easy language for many humans to master."

He quickly determined that to be the understatement of the century.

Trip gave T'Pol about an hour after breakfast for her to meditate and then went to her quarters. He went as quickly as possible and tried not to linger in the corridor, lest one of the other passengers see him calling on her. Aboard _Enterprise_, such a thing would be commonplace. But aboard the Vulcan shuttle, he didn't think an unsupervised human male visiting the room of a Vulcan female would be given the same kind of dismissal.

He spent the first half-hour struggling to get his fingers into the proper position for the traditional Vulcan salute – split down the middle, right between the middle finger and ring finger. He discovered that he could perform the salute on his left hand more easily than he could with his right, but it still took twenty minutes to arrive at that conclusion.

"The _ta'a_ is a great sign of respect," T'Pol said as he fought with his own hand. "It is our way of shaking hands, to show that we are unarmed and that we come in peace."

"Very comforting." He couldn't get his fingers to obey. His salute looked nothing like T'Pol's.

"Please do not mock our customs, Commander."

"I didn't mean it like that, T'Pol." He gave up his futile struggle and dropped his hand. He was tempted to take hers, but he remembered what had happened the last time he had touched her, and refrained. "It's just that a handshake is so much easier than trying to make my fingers do what yours are doin'."

She regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then took his hand in her own. He braced himself for the blinding flash of light, but the only thing that happened was a lurch in his stomach – the same thing that happened basically every time he touched her. She forced his fingers to separate and then released them. He managed to hold the salute for a few seconds before his fingers reflexively snapped back to their original positions.

"Excellent, Commander," T'Pol said. _Still with the "Commander"._ "Greeting a species in their native way is essential to interspecies relations."

"Really?" Trip asked. T'Pol nodded. "Then how come you didn't shake my hand when we first met? I mean, that's how humans say hello."

T'Pol paused with her mouth open. She composed herself quickly. "Please do not change the subject."

Trip chuckled softly and shook his head. He wanted to call on her on her obvious prevarication, but decided that he was too pleased with their closeness to risk it. "Sorry. So is there somethin' I say to go along with this, or do I just say 'Hi there, T'Pol's mom'?"

He reveled in the look of horror that manifested itself in T'Pol's eyes. "The proper greeting," he noticed that she emphasized "proper", "is _dif-tor heh smusma_."

He squinted at her. "What's it mean?"

"Live long and prosper." She shifted her position on her floor, which was where they had settled themselves. "When you are greeted with _dif-tor heh smusma_, you respond with _sochya eh dif_. It means 'peace and long life'."

"_Difter hay smusma_," he said.

T'Pol shook her head. "_Dif-tor heh smusma_."

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No, Commander, it is not. Apparently, your penchant for butchering language is not limited to your own."

Trip was almost offended by that remark. "Hey now. I'm tryin', aren't I?"

T'Pol eyed him indifferently. "Yes, you are. An admirable first attempt, but perhaps I should point out that my mother's English is excellent."


	6. Day 6

Day 6 

"So these are like your Ten Commandments, huh?" Trip asked.

T'Pol glanced over at him. He was lying on her bed on his back, holding _The Teachings of Surak_ at arm's length above his head.

It had been his idea. Yesterday during her tutorial on the Vulcan language – which had tested the limits of her seemingly infinite patience – he made the comment that it had been some time since they'd engaged in a cultural exchange.

"What do you think we are doing now?" she had asked him, secretly relieved for the break. Five hours of listening to Trip hack his way through her language had been more trying that she'd originally believed.

He had shaken his head. "No, no. It doesn't count unless you're doin' somethin' Earth-y."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you propose?"

He grinned.

That was how they had come into their current situation, with him supine on her bunk immersed in a translated version of _The Teachings of Surak_ and her seated rigidly in her desk chair paging through his very battered copy of _The Lord of the Rings_. She hardly considered it to be a fair trade; after all, _The Lord of the Rings_ was over one thousand pages, and _The Teachings of Surak_ – even in Vulcan – was less than a tenth that length. But Trip had been insistent for her to read that particular book, despite the fact that he had more than a dozen in his possession.

It was also very difficult for her to read with his constant remarks about the book he was reading.

She returned to _The Lord of the Rings_. "I suppose you could make that correlation."

"Well, sure," he said, turning the page. "I mean, most Christians base their lives off the Ten Commandments, and you Vulcans seem to base your lives off Surak's teachings. I think it's a fair comparison."

She refused to spare another glance in his direction. "Perhaps."

He looked at her. "Which one's your favorite?"

T'Pol closed her eyes and counted to ten. Sometimes, he could be extremely infuriating. It had been some time since he'd so effortlessly managed to irritate her, but now he seemed to put her on the defensive with every sentence. "Commander Tucker, if you wish for me to read this, please refrain from asking me further questions."

The commander rolled his eyes and sat up. He shut the book with a snap and set it on the bed beside him. "What's a guy gotta do to get you to call him 'Trip'?"

She tensed in her chair. In truth, she thought of him as "Trip" and had for several months. It took an extraordinary amount of mental control to stop herself from referring to him as such. Other than that one time, the first time she had ever called him anything but "Commander" or "Mister Tucker", she tried to maintain an air of formality with him. Calling him "Trip", even in private, made her believe that there was an intimacy between them that simply could not exist.

She was attracted to him, physically and emotionally. He was a good man – caring, compassionate, intelligent, resourceful. He made her feel comfortable, as if she were just one of the crew and not the only Vulcan on board _Enterprise_. She had affections for him. She cared about him deeply. She was constantly worried about his safety, so much so that she suspected it would soon affect her performance as First Officer. But he was human, and she was Vulcan, and an intimate relationship would only lead to disastrous consequences. The circumstances surrounding their coupling were hardly ideal; she did not think there would ever be ideal circumstances. She would be shunned from Vulcan society, more so than she already was, due to her condition. He would probably receive the same treatment from his people.

"You know the significance Vulcans place on first names," she said.

He furrowed his brow. "I do. But it's just you and me, T'Pol. No other Vulcans around. You can call me 'Trip', if you want."

She did want to, but she couldn't. She couldn't allow herself to be deluded into thinking that a human-Vulcan relationship was possible. It simply wasn't, and to assume otherwise would be foolish.

T'Pol took a deep breath and faced him. "Are you finished with the book, Commander?"

Some of the sparkle left his eyes as he shook his head slowly. "Not yet." He moved to lie down once more but stopped, bracing his weight on one arm. "Whatcha think of _The Lord of the Rings_ so far?"

Of course. He had an insatiable curiosity to learn what she thought about Earth culture, and she should have known it would not be limited to films. "Highly improbable."

He smiled, but it held none of the warmth that his smiles usually displayed. "It s'posed to be improbable, T'Pol. It's fantasy. But it's not about that. It's about the ultimate showdown between good and evil. It's about learning that you can be more than what you are. It's a classic." He raised an eyebrow. "You got a favorite character yet?"

She closed the book, holding her place with her thumb. "I am quite fascinated by the character of Frodo. He seems to be the most conflicted of the group."

"You don't know the half of it."

She let that comment slide, assuming that it was a reference to something that happened later in the story, but he didn't seem to be mocking her choice. In truth, she identified with Frodo the most because she saw herself in his position. As the only Vulcan on _Enterprise_, she was under a constant struggle to remain true to her culture yet still adapt to her human crewmembers. It was a battle she sometimes failed.

"Arwen was always my favorite," he said, startling her out of her reverie. He was once again on his back with the book above his head.

"She is the daughter of the Elven king, correct?" T'Pol asked, pleased that she had remembered the detail despite Trip's constant interruptions.

He nodded, one side of his mouth turned up in a half-grin. "Yeah. I've always had a thing for Elves. I think it's the pointed ears."

**

* * *

****A/N: **I don't own _The Lord of the Rings_ either. I just really like the book. I don't own either. I just really like the book. 

I also have a thing for Elves. It is the ears. ;)


	7. Day 7

**A/N:** Someone on the HoT Bulletin Board figured that it would take about 24 days to reach Vulcan using warp 6 (remember, it's 16 light years away from Earth), based on something from TOS, in case anyone was wondering why it was taking so long. I don't understand it, but I don't really understand anything math or science related, which is why I was an English major.

Thanks for the reviews!

Oh, I got the teachings of Surak from the Vulcan Language Dictionary, but they can also be found at the Vulcan Language Institute. (I have no life.)

* * *

Day 7

_Offer them peace, then you will have peace._

Pretty self-explanatory. Trip had re-read T'Pol's copy of _The Teachings of Surak_ three times since she had given it to him the day before. He was hoping to have become a master of the sayings by the time the shuttle landed on Vulcan. He thought it might impress T'Pol's mother if he knew something about the Vulcan culture other than the salute, since he could not seem to properly pronounce the greeting that went with it.

_The spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own._

That one was proving to be a little more difficult. He interpreted it to mean that violence against another was violence against yourself, that taking someone else's life would ultimately destroy your own. It seemed to be the interpretation that made the most sense, since most of Surak's sayings were directed at non-violence.

_As far as possible, do not kill._

_Then be slow to take life._

_Can you return to life what you kill?_

He whistled softly. "Man," he said to his empty room, "Vulcans sure have a thing about killin' stuff."

He was glad T'Pol wasn't there, though the room felt empty without her. At breakfast that morning, he'd asked if she wanted to read with him – she was still poring over _The Lord of the Rings_ – but she said that she was enjoying the book too much to be distracted by him. He had chosen to focus on the fact that she liked the book rather than the fact that she'd out-and-out told him he was annoying.

And if she had been there, she would have lectured him about respecting the beliefs of other cultures – the same way she got on his case when he teased her about her eating habits or her distaste of touching.

_Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear._

Trip snorted. That was one teaching which he was sure T'Pol was trying to ignore. It was the only reason he could think of for their current predicament. He had feelings for her – strong feelings – and he knew she reciprocated, at least to the extent that a Vulcan could. Yeah, she'd never admitted it outright, but why else would she have seduced him? In his eyes, that was a clear indication that she felt more for him than just friendship. He knew it wasn't just some exploration of sexual curiosity, because otherwise she would have done something about it a lot sooner.

No. She definitely felt something and was afraid to do anything about it.

Hell, he was afraid, too. He'd have to be an idiot not to be. New relationships always made him nervous, but entering into an intimate relationship with a Vulcan – a species that practically despised everything about his planet – was downright petrifying. So many things could go wrong. For starters, if the High Command or the Earth government found out, they'd probably forbid them from seeing each other. They might even try to forcibly separate him from T'Pol. He wouldn't go quietly. He'd go kicking and screaming like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. Plus, they would most likely become social pariahs among both their cultures, in much the same way the first interracial couples must have. They might not even be accepted on other planets because they were outsiders. They would probably never find a place where they could live freely. Their only chance would be to get stranded on _Enterprise_, just like their alternate selves. And he would always be afraid that he loved her more than she loved him, simply because Vulcans didn't recognize the emotion.

But, God, the way he felt when he was with T'Pol, he'd never felt that way before. Ever. He was willing to bet his engines that he'd never feel that way again. And he didn't want to let that go just because she was scared.

_We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us._

He liked that one the best.


	8. Day 8

**Day 8**

T'Pol had been unable to put down _The Lord of the Rings_. She had done nothing but read for two solid days, forgoing everything except her basic biological needs. She had not meditated, had barely eaten, and had only paused for brief showers. The more she read, the more involved in the story she became. She devoured the book hungrily, eagerly anticipating the next paragraph, the next chapter, the next part, until she was so engrossed in the story that she could not have relinquished the book for anything.

She could see why Trip had given her this book to read. It was beautifully written. She could clearly picture the characters and the setting in her head. Images seemed to dance before her eyes as she read. The story was interesting and well constructed. The characters were compelling and wonderfully flawed. The attention to detail was impressive.

But she began to suspect that he had ulterior motives when she learned that the Elven princess, Arwen, and the human Aragorn were lovers, cruelly torn apart by the differences between their two cultures and their two completely separate fates. Arwen, as an Elf, was immortal but willing to give up her immortality to be with the man she loved. Aragorn could make no such sacrifice for her, but T'Pol got the feeling that, had he been given the same choice he would have done the same. As she read, T'Pol couldn't help but notice similarities between Arwen and Aragorn's relationship and hers and Trip's. They had the same cultural differences. In fact, the Elves viewed mankind the same way that the Vulcans did, with contempt and superiority.

T'Pol had also caught Trip's comment about having "a thing" for pointed ears. She knew enough about Earth colloquialisms to know what that meant.

Still, she was curious as to how it all would end. She knew about humans' fascination with the concept of "true love" from the various movies Trip had forced her to endure. One movie in particular had been solely focused on the idea, repeating the phrase numerous times throughout the film.

She found herself illogically hoping that Aragorn and Arwen would find a way to be together – that true love would indeed conquer all.


	9. Day 9

**Day 9**

Trip ate dinner alone, as per usual. He had taken to eating late, when the mess was nearly empty, so as to avoid the prying eyes of the other passengers. He almost regretted giving T'Pol _The Lord of the Rings_ to read. She had barricaded herself in her quarters almost three days ago and refused to come out, even to eat. He sneaked fruit to her so that she could at least have something in her stomach, and though she accepted the food he brought her, she quickly sent him on his way, informing him that she would rejoin him when she had finished the book.

He supposed he should have been pleased that she was enjoying it so much. He did kind of have ulterior motives behind giving her that specific book when he had others to choose from. And T'Pol, being as smart as she was, had probably already figured out his motives but still chose to read the book anyway, which said a lot.

Without T'Pol to keep him company, he immersed himself in his old engineering logs, continually searching for ways to improve _Enterprise._ He didn't doubt that the crew refitting the ship would do a good job, but he knew the engines inside and out. He liked to think that he and he alone knew what was best for _Enterprise_. He wished he could talk to some of the Vulcans about their ships, but he had a feeling they wouldn't be so eager to speak with him, so he kept to himself in a back corner of the mess.

He was in the middle of devising a way to stabilize the impulse thrusters during a power surge when he felt someone lean over his shoulder.

"If you did that, your thrusters would ignite," a voice behind him said.

Trip glanced over his shoulder and saw that a tall, unnaturally skinny Vulcan with black hair and eyes stood directly behind him, practically brushing up against his back. Trip set down the fruit he'd been eating and turned in his chair to better face his audience. "Can I help you with something?"

The Vulcan simply stared at him, cocking his head to the side. "No. I was just wondering if I could join you."

Trip raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Uh, sure. I guess."

"Thank you," the Vulcan said. He seated himself at the chair directly across from Trip and gently set his bowl and glass on the table. "My name is Solen."

"Trip Tucker."

Solen reached for his spoon. "Interesting name. Do you have a title, Mister Tucker?"

"I'm a commander in Starfleet. Chief engineer of the _Enterprise_." He leaned forward. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell do you want?"

Solen glanced up from his soup. He appeared unfazed, but three years of reading T'Pol had taught Trip a thing or two about Vulcan facial expressions. Solen was definitely surprised at his behavior. "The only thing I want, Commander Tucker, is to have a conversation with you."

The shuttle had been traveling at warp six for the past nine days with no stops, which meant that Solen had boarded around the same time Trip and T'Pol had. So why hadn't he approached Trip earlier, if all he wanted to do was talk? Trip grabbed the piece of fruit and took a healthy bite out of it. "Why now?"

"Commander Tucker, look around you." Trip did as he was told, but saw nothing. "The room is virtually empty, which means our chances of being overheard are small."

Trip was intrigued. "What are you gonna tell me that you don't want others to know?"

Solen stirred his soup. "Only that I am fascinated by humans. The others do not approve of my curiosity, but I have been on Earth many years studying your species. Yours is a most interesting planet."

Trip's interest was rapidly waning. Of all the things he'd anticipated before coming aboard the Vulcan shuttle, being an object of curiosity had not been one of them. "So you just wanted to talk to a human?"

"That is correct."

Trip sighed and returned his attention the PADD he'd been reading before Solen had appeared. As he scanned the information, he realized that Solen had, unfortunately, been correct. If he had done what he'd speculated, the thrusters would have exploded. "Anything in particular you wanna know?"

"What is your relationship to your Vulcan traveling companion?"

Trip looked up from the PADD in shock. Solen wasn't looking at him – he was calmly eating his soup – but Trip thought he could detect a flicker of amusement in his black eyes. Trip struggled to keep his face and voice neutral when he responded. "We're friends. We both serve on _Enterprise_."

Solen briefly flicked his eyes upward to catch Trip's gaze before returning to his soup. "So that is the famous T'Pol."

"You've heard of T'Pol?" This guy just kept throwing curve balls.

"Oh, yes. She's the only Vulcan to have served aboard a human ship for such a long period of time. That, and her very public resignation from the High Command. Many question her motives. They could hardly be considered logical."

Trip could feel his blood beginning to boil. "Not everything has to be logical."

"For Vulcans it does. Logic defines everything we do." He finished his soup and stood. "It was most agreeable to speak with you, Commander Tucker."

Trip watched Solen walk away and slumped on the table. Were he and T'Pol that obvious?

* * *

**A/N:** Just found out a few days ago that "galley" is actually the kitchen, which I did not know before, so if you see that used incorrectly, it's because I forgot to fix it and haven't had the chance to go back and check. My bad.


	10. Day 10

**Day 10**

"_You must really be proud of yourself," Trip said as he slicked decontamination gel on her back. "You can put an end to this mission while the captain's still unconscious in sickbay. You don't even have to look him in the eye."_

_She knew she should have been concentrating on his words, but all she could focus on were his hands caressing her back. She could feel her body instinctively responding to his touch and clamped down on her reactions. She forced herself to ignore the tingling in her ears, the tightening of her nipples, her hair standing on end._

_As his fingers slipped below the waistline of her panties she spoke to mask her true feelings. "Your precious cargo was stolen, three Suliban – perhaps more – were killed, and Captain Archer has been seriously wounded." When he brought his fingers to her ears, she was sure that she could not contain herself any longer, so she wrenched her head away and turned to face him. "It seems to me this mission has put an end to itself." She paused, staring into his deep blue eyes. "Turn around."_

T'Pol woke from her dream at the frenzied knocking on her door. She wasn't even aware that she had fallen asleep, yet somehow she had ended up in bed. The knocking stopped almost as soon as it had begun, and she laid her head back on the pillow.

The knocking started again. "T'Pol?" Commander Tucker.

She threw back the covers, swung her legs around, and slid off the bed. She padded barefoot across the room and opened the door. Trip stood there, clad in a T-shirt and boxers. He stared at her for a moment, blinking at the sight of her in her pajamas, then he slipped into her quarters without being invited and shut the door behind him.

"We need to talk," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. Something was clearly troubling him. "So I gathered. What is the matter?"

Trip sank into her desk chair. "Do you know anyone named Solen?"

Solen. A name she had not heard for some time. "Yes. His father was a friend of my father's when they both served in the High Command. The last I heard, Solen was on Earth. He tried to contact me while I was at the consulate in San Francisco, but we never managed to meet." She sat down on the bed, facing him. "Why do you ask?"

Trip pursed his lips. "He came up to me in the galley earlier. Asked me what our relationship was."

T'Pol stiffened. She had suspected that the other passengers would be suspicious when they saw her traveling companion, but she had not expected anyone to comment to either of them on the status of their relationship. Perhaps she should have anticipated this when she was inviting him; it might have made her think twice about doing so.

But when she thought about it, she realized that she did not want to spend her entire shore leave without the commander. Her invitation may have seemed illogical to other Vulcans, but to her it was the only logical course of action. She needed Trip, more than she would ever admit.

"What did you tell him?"

Trip narrowed his eyes. "What do you think I told him? I said we were just friends. I don't think he believed me, though."

She averted her eyes, forcing herself to look at the floor. "Does he have reason to suspect otherwise?"

When he didn't respond, she glanced up at him, and their eyes locked. She had forgotten how penetrating his gaze could be, how easily she could lose herself in his eyes. He spoke softly. "You haven't even been outta your quarters for the past two and a half days. Maybe if we just avoid each other most of the time, no one'll get suspicious."

It wasn't the answer for which she was hoping. "Is that want you want?"

He sighed and became interested in his fingernails. "No. But these aren't my people, T'Pol. They're yours. We'll do whatever you wanna do."

She watched him play with his fingers, stifling the illogical urge to take his hand in her own. She straightened and infused as much dignity into her voice as she could muster. "I see no reason to avoid each other, Commander. The other passengers are aware that we are traveling together. Making an effort to stay away may raise their suspicions more than they already are."

He gave her a tiny smile. "Sounds good to me. I'll let you sleep." He rose and walked swiftly to the door. "Good night, T'Pol."

She nodded. "Good night, Trip."

He paused, his hand poised above the button to open her door, and turned to look at her. She merely cocked an eyebrow at his reaction, though she could feel her cheeks flushing. He smiled, opened the door, and was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** T'Pol's dream is the infamous decon scene from "Broken Bow".

Keep those reviews coming! I love y'ins guys.


	11. Day 11

**Day 11**

Trip grabbed a blue-green fruit from the bowl in front of him. "What's this one called?"

"_Kaasa_," T'Pol said.

This had been going on for the entire meal. Trip wanted to learn as much about Vulcan as he possibly could before the shuttle landed in two weeks. He'd already decided that the language was his best bet, though it was difficult to grasp. While T'Pol had been holed up in her quarters reading _The Lord of the Rings_ – which she had yet to comment on – he'd tried to read the original Vulcan of _The Teachings of Surak_. He hadn't gotten very far. But new opportunities were constantly presenting themselves, as lunch had demonstrated. T'Pol had brought over a bowl containing every fruit that the Vulcan shuttle had in its stores. He was trying to learn the difference between them.

He picked up an oblong fruit. "And this one?"

"_Sash-savas_. It has a taste similar to the lemon."

Trip reached for the yellow fruit on top of the pile in the bowl. "I thought this was a _sash-savas_."

T'Pol shook her head. "That is a _yon-savas_."

Trip twisted one eyebrow quizzically. Vulcan foods were so confusing. "What's the difference?"

She looked at him, her face impassive, but he could see the glint in her eye that usually preceded her teasing. "Besides the obvious?" He opened his mouth to continue the verbal sparring, but she cut him off before he could say anything. "_Savas_ is a generic term meaning simply 'fruit'. The term that precedes it is a descriptive term specifying which particular type of fruit."

"Oh. So what's the actual translation of _sash-savas_?"

"'Acid fruit'. Because of its citrus flavor."

He took a bite out of the _sash-savas_ and was immediately sorry he had done so. She hadn't been kidding when she said it tasted like a lemon. It was so sour that his eyes began to water almost instantly. He grabbed his glass of water and drank it in three gulps. When he looked up, T'Pol's eyes were smiling.

"Satisfied, Commander?" T'Pol asked.

He glared at her, but he knew that it wasn't her fault. He just didn't see what was so damned amusing. "Now that you mention it…" He reached for her glass of water and stopped himself just in time. There were other passengers present, and he knew they would react badly upon seeing the human commander unabashedly drinking after the Vulcan in his company. He coughed nervously. "What did you think of _The Lord of the Rings_?"

T'Pol didn't answer right away, and Trip smiled. "C'mon, T'Pol. I know you liked it. You practically threw me out of your room every time I stopped by to bring you food. Don't tell me you didn't like it."

She raised an eyebrow. "I suspect you had ulterior motives when you recommended that I read that book."

He couldn't resist the urge to grin. She was a sharp one, all right. "What makes you think that?" The second eyebrow joined the first. "Okay, so I might've had somethin' in mind, but it shouldn't affect what you thought about the book. What'd you think?"

"I liked it."

He waited for more, but when it became apparent that T'Pol wasn't going to elaborate he shook his head. "Is that it?"

She took a sip from her glass of water. "You asked me what I thought."

"When I asked what you thought of _Frankenstein_, you launched into a lecture on the misrepresentation of Frankenstein's monster, and your only comment about _The Lord of the Rings_ is that you liked it?"

"I found it reassuring that such a diverse group of individuals could work together to achieve a common goal. I respected the way in which Frodo was unwilling to put others at risk, despite his growing corruption, and the loyalty and dedication each character showed to the others. And I admired the sacrifices that Arwen and Aragorn were willing to make to be together." She lowered her voice to a whisper as she finished speaking, but Trip heard every word.

"Really?" Trip asked. T'Pol simply stared at him. "Remind you of anyone?"

She stiffened visibly, and Trip almost regretted brining it up. She took another drink of water before responding. "I am aware, Commander, of how their situation parallels our own. Hand me the _kahm-savas_."

Trip sighed and stretched his hand toward the bowl of fruit. He lowered it abruptly and glanced apologetically up at her. "Which one is that again?"

* * *

**A/N:** Again, many thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary, which is where I got all the terms for the different fruit.


	12. Day 12

**Day 12**

T'Pol found Solen on the observation deck. She had meant to seek him out earlier, but she was apprehensive about what he would say. It had been many years since she'd last seen him, though in her opinion, it hadn't been long enough. She wanted nothing more than to forget she had ever known him, which would be impossible now that he knew she was on board. She hoped Trip had believed her explanation of their relationship, but she didn't want him to learn that she and Solen had once been involved, which was why she waited until Trip had gone to bed to look for him.

She found him seated near the front of the craft, reading an abridged history of Earth. His appearance had not changed a bit, and T'Pol was relieved to notice that she felt nothing for him. "Solen."

He didn't glance up from the book when he responded. "T'Pol. It is agreeable to see you."

She raised an eyebrow. "I cannot say the same." She wished Trip could have heard her say that. He would have been proud of her.

Solen shook his head, still engrossed in his book. "You only say that because I'm aware of your relationship with the human, Commander Tucker."

T'Pol's breath caught in her throat, but she refused to give Solen the satisfaction of seeing her worried. She dripped as much disdain into her voice as she could allow and said, "You know nothing, Solen."

He glanced briefly at her. "I know you, T'Pol. You do not make invitations lightly, especially to humans. Asking this Commander Tucker to accompany you to Vulcan says more than you are willing to admit. Whether or not you want to believe it, others will realize that there is more to your relationship than there appears to be." Had he been human, he would have been smirking. It was evident in his tone. "It is the logical deduction."

T'Pol bit back a retaliatory comment. He spoke the truth. "Commander Tucker is a colleague. His home was destroyed during the Xindi attack on Earth, and he needed somewhere to go for shore leave."

He laid his book on the seat beside him and held up his hands in what she presumed to be a gesture of concession. "You do not have to defend your behavior or your choices to me, T'Pol. You will soon find that I am considered one of the more…open-minded Vulcans. It comes from my time on Earth, from several friends that I have made."

She sighed and tried another tactic. "I am not the same as I was when we were together. My time on _Enterprise_ has changed me irrevocably."

He raised an eyebrow and pointed one finger at her. "You are not the only thing that has changed. Things on Vulcan are changing as well. I sense a great upheaval in our traditions."

Against her better judgment, she sat in the chair across from him. Solen had been on Earth for so long that the only way he could know about unrest on Vulcan was if it were serious enough to spread. "Is that why you decided to return?"

His face was impassive, as it should have been. "Perhaps. You know how I feel about our people." He sighed, a little too dramatically. "However, I feel obliged to help when I can. No matter my opinion toward others of my species, I cannot turn my back on my home when it is in danger."

T'Pol suspected that Solen was only trying to upset her. That was his personality. He had always been that way. "What proof do you have?"

"Nothing concrete at the moment. I have heard some rumors at the consulate. I wanted to examine things for myself." He paused, reaching for his book. "And I have missed my family. It has been a long time since I have seen them."

She nodded, understanding. "I as well."

Solen opened his book and began to search for his page. "Did you tell Commander Tucker the nature of our relationship?"

T'Pol's mood soured. "We do not have a relationship, Solen."

He clucked his tongue in apparent disapproval. T'Pol thought it to be a very human gesture. "I didn't think you would."

She stood, suddenly appalled by his presence. "Good night, Solen."

He didn't look at her. "Good night, T'Pol."

* * *

**A/N: **Halfway there!


	13. Day 13

**Day 13**

Trip buried his face in his hands and stifled a groan. "Are you sure you want to learn?" He prayed that she would say no. He was exhausted. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before – in fact, he'd been unable to sleep for most of the trip – because he kept having impossibly realistic sex dreams involving a certain Vulcan science officer, who was currently seated at the foot of his bed puzzling over a football rule book. "We can stop right now. I won't think any less of you."

T'Pol nodded. "You have been most anxious to learn Vulcan customs. I thought it only fair for me to learn some Earth ones."

"Well, I'm not the one who's been livin' on an alien ship for three years," Trip said, collapsing on his bunk on his stomach. He studied T'Pol's face. _She's so cute when she's intent on somethin'_, he thought. He raised himself up on his elbows. "You really don't need to do this, T'Pol."

She cocked her head at him, and he was instantly drowning in the deep chestnut of her eyes. _Not a good sign, ol' boy_, he told himself, _if all she has to do is look at you and you're putty._

"I have never taken your attempts at a cultural exchange seriously, Commander," she said, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were back to "commander" again. "And as we have ample time before we reach Vulcan, it seems like the chance to…make up for lost time."

Trip smiled inwardly at her use of the human phrase and sat up. "You read _The Lord of the Rings_."

She shook her head. "Reading one book could hardly be construed as a cultural exchange, given that you are learning much more about Vulcan on this trip than I am learning about Earth."

He laughed. "That's 'cause we're goin' to Vulcan. Seems to make sense that I learn a little 'bout it. I don't wanna look like a stereotypical human when I meet your mom." He paused to gauge her reaction, but she gave him none. "And what exactly brought on this sudden urge to learn about football?"

"I merely expressed the desire to learn an Earth custom, Commander. You were the one who suggested I learn about football."

He shrugged. "Well, that's 'cause it seemed like the most Earth-y thing to learn about. Only humans would make up something so pointless."

T'Pol cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed. There are an inordinate amount of rules for something as seemingly simple as carrying a ball across a field."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to drain the frustration from his voice. "If it was simple, T'Pol, it wouldn't be a challenge."

She returned to the rule book, which he suddenly realized she was holding upside down. He leaned forward to see why and noticed that she was attempting to make sense of one of the many diagrams. "I see," she said. "So this is supposed to be challenging."

"Sure," he said. He gently removed the book from her hands and righted it, letting his hands rest on hers when he gave the book back. "Without challenge, we stagnate. Football expresses a human's inherent need for competition. It also symbolizes how we feel about our lives in general. All we gotta do is get a ball a hundred yards downfield. Should be easy, right? But someone's in our way, tryin' to make us fail. We gotta be stronger, smarter, faster than the people in our way."

T'Pol glanced up at him, and he saw that his hands were still on hers.

"I was under the impression that football was only a game," she said. Her voice was softer than usual. She didn't move her hands.

Trip laughed to cover up his nerves and glanced down at their hands. "Leave it to humans to take something like a game of football and make it life or death." When he looked up and met T'Pol's gaze, he damn near melted on the spot. "We take ourselves too seriously."

"Do you approach everything in life with as much vigor as you do football?" she asked.

He felt all the blood rush south. _That sounded like flirtin'_, he thought. _T'Pol doesn't flirt._ Well, that wasn't entirely true, although she probably wouldn't recognize something as flirting. So perhaps it should have been that T'Pol didn't consciously flirt. "Well," Trip said, reaching out to brush his fingers against her face, "I can't speak for anyone else, but I sure as hell do."

His fingers touched her face, and he felt the electricity surge through him once more. This time there was no blinding flash of light. Instead, he felt strange emotions wash over him – emotions that were not his own. Though he couldn't explain it, he knew that they were T'Pol's. He tried to sift through them, but they came in a rush, drowning him. It wasn't until the last one entered his mind that he was able to even think clearly enough to identify it.

Need. Burning, aching need. For him.

As if she sensed what she had inadvertently revealed to him, she wrenched herself free of his touch and slid off the bed. "If you don't mind, Commander, I would like to take this book back to my quarters. I believe I could grasp the concepts better without distraction."

"Is that all I am? A distraction?" He wasn't sure if she meant it that way, but that's sure as hell what it sounded like to him.

Her eyes shimmered, and for a minute he actually entertained the idea that she was tearing up. But then she blinked and her face was as expressionless as always. "You do not have the capacity to remain silent for long periods of time," she said. "I feel it would be best if I returned to my quarters."

It suddenly hit him that she was running away. She knew what had just happened and it scared her, so she was bolting before it could go any further. Because it would, he realized that now. If they had stayed like that any longer, who knew how far it would have gone. The last thing he wanted was another one night stand with her, if that's all it was going to be.

He cleared his throat. "Maybe that's a good idea."


	14. Day 14

**Day 14**

_Perhaps I should avoid him._

Ridiculous. How could she avoid him? They were on a shuttle traveling at warp six – a shuttle on which he was the only human – and they were headed to T'Pol's home. No, she couldn't avoid him. It would be a fruitless endeavor. Yet she didn't know how to proceed, now that he knew how she felt. He'd caught her off guard the day before, when he touched her face; she hadn't been prepared and therefore didn't have the time to throw up her mental barriers. Or maybe she had wanted him to find out and so had willingly allowed him entrance to her mind.

_Perhaps he doesn't realize what transpired between us._

That thought was foolish hope. He may not have understood the depth of the interaction, but she could read his facial expressions with some expertise, and she knew recognition when she saw it. No, he knew what had happened, at least to some degree. She also knew, through the connection he had initiated, that he had identified at least a few of the emotions cascading from her brain – emotions that she had been unable to control since her exposure, and subsequent addiction, to Trellium-D.

_Perhaps his attraction for me has dissipated._

She knew that was untrue the moment she thought it. She suspected that he had been attracted to her for some time, and something like that didn't just disappear – or even fade slowly. She didn't know how it was with him, but she'd been attracted to him from the beginning. When she walked into the captain's ready room before _Enterprise's_ maiden voyage, she'd detected an unusual scent – an odd combination of engine oil, sugar, and testosterone. Having already met the captain, she knew it wasn't him. No, it was coming from the man who would have been second-in-command if not for her.

"_I took a shower this morning. How 'bout you, Cap'n?" The voice came from behind her. She turned around…_

…_and came face to face with easily the most attractive male she had ever seen – human, Vulcan, Denobulan, any species. He was clearly angry, but she didn't care. The anger made him more volatile. More masculine. More exotic. More arousing. She could deal with anger._

_She knew this must be the chief engineer, the man whose position on _Enterprise_ she had usurped. It wouldn't do any good to argue that she had not volunteered for the assignment or that she didn't want to be there any more than they wanted her to be there. She knew how most humans viewed the Vulcans, and judging from the reaction in the room, these two were no different._

_She stared at him, pretended to size him up, and held her breath. She wanted to make them think it was because she was trying to deal with the barrage of different odors, when in reality it was because she simply couldn't find her breath._

"_I'm sorry," Archer said. "This is Commander Charles Tucker the third. Subcommander T'Pol."_

_Commander Tucker stood and walked over to her, sticking his hand out. "Trip," he said. "I'm called Trip."_

_She looked at his hand and seriously contemplated shaking it, though her people were not tactile beings. It was illogical, but she wanted to know how it felt to touch him, how strong his grip was, how smooth his skin was. She clamped the urge down immediately. She could not let him know that she was attracted to him._

"_I'll try to remember that," she said. She turned away from him._

She had known from that moment that her relationship with the commander was going to be awkward. How could she maintain a working relationship with him when she was so attracted? Sometimes her desire was so strong that she snapped at him to cover her feelings. But when they argued, her desire heightened. It was almost as if their bickering was their own kind of foreplay. It had just lasted two and a half years.

T'Pol couldn't fight it much longer. As long as she and Trip were on this vessel, with nothing to distract them from each other or interrupt them, it was only inevitable that they would find themselves in another intimate encounter. Given their level of attraction to each other, it was unavoidable.

But was it logical?

T'Pol grabbed her copy of _The Teachings of Surak_ from the nightstand, where it sat on top of the football rule book Trip had lent her. She opened the book and flipped through it absentmindedly, not entirely sure what she was seeking. She hoped that perhaps the book would supply the answers she needed on its own. It was a very human expectation.

When the book didn't provide, she threw it on the floor. She took a deep, calming breath and retrieved it. She went to close it, but at the last second she skimmed down the page.

_Ma etek natyan teretuhr lau etek shetau weh-lo'uk do tum t'on. _

We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us.

* * *

**A/N:** The scene in italics is from "Broken Bow".

Again, Surak's sayings are thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary.


	15. Day 15

**A/N:** The dream Trip has is, again, the infamous decon scene in "Broken Bow" (can you tell I love that scene?), except for the part at the end, which is purely the creation of my imagination. Well, maybe not. But whatever.

Oh, yeah, this chapter's a little more, um, risque than the others. You have been warned.

* * *

**Day 15**

_Trip was going crazy. There was no other explanation. Why else would he be unable to take his eyes off the Vulcan standing before him? Yeah, she was attractive – damn fine female specimen if he ever saw one – but she was Vulcan, and he was pissed off at her at the moment. As long as he kept concentrating on that, he'd be fine. Or so he thought. But even that didn't seem to be working. Particularly because as she stood before him clad in nothing but her underwear, he couldn't help but notice that the air crackled with electricity completely separate from the blue lights bathing them in warm ultraviolet radiation._

_He could almost see it now. "Dear Penthouse…"_

_He began to lather the decontamination gel on his arms. The sooner he got this stuff on him, the sooner he could get out of this room and put some space between him and T'Pol. He chanced a glance at the Vulcan and tried not to notice that the way she was spreading the gel on her shoulders looked very much like some kind of foreplay._

_He couldn't stand it any longer. If he didn't say something, he was going to crack. He couldn't even begin to imagine what T'Pol's reaction would be if he tried to kiss her right now, but he would bet good money that it would give new meaning to the term "knee-jerk". "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you just kind of an observer on this mission? I don't remember anyone tellin' me you were a member of Starfleet."_

_She grabbed another glob of gel and rubbed her hands together. "My Vulcan rank supersedes yours." She rubbed it all over her stomach, but she did it slowly, teasingly. Trip's brain began to fog._

"_Apples and oranges," he said. "This is an Earth vessel. You're in no position to take command."_

"_As soon as we're through here, I'll contact Ambassador Soval." She began to lather her legs, and Trip focused all his energy on his anger, so that he wouldn't notice how shapely her legs were. "He'll speak to your superiors, and I'm certain they'll support my authority in this situation."_

_When T'Pol had finished, he realized that they were going to have to help each other reach their backs. He held out his hands, indicating that she should turn around so he could get her first. She understood his gesture and turned her back to him. _

"_You must really be proud of yourself," he said, blatantly ignoring her hands as she attended to the areas under her shirt. "You can put an end to this mission while the captain's still unconscious in sickbay." Her skin was so soft. Somehow, he'd imagine a tough hide to match her emotionless interior. On impulse, he let his fingers slide under the waistband of her panties. He half expected her to turn around and deck him. But she didn't. "You won't even have to look him in the eye."_

"_Your precious cargo was stolen." He stood up and looked at her ears. He'd heard that Vulcan ears were very sensitive – that they were an erogenous zone. He began to gently rub them, eagerly anticipating her reaction. She didn't give him one. "Three Suliban, perhaps more, were killed, and Captain Archer has been seriously wounded." She wrenched her head free of his grasp and turned to face him. "It seems to me this mission has put an end to itself. Turn around."_

_The way she said it made his knees buckle. He turned around to let her get to work, but he made a big show of being reluctant. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that this was seriously turning him on. However, his body undermined his actions a second later, because the moment she touched him, he was instantly hard. He cursed silently and hoped she wouldn't notice._

"_Let's say you're right," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. Damn, she was fine. "Let's say we screwed up, just like you always knew we would." She moved her hands quickly down his back to his legs. Wait a minute; he'd already done his legs. What was she doing? "It's still a pretty good bet that whoever blew that hole in the captain's leg is connected somehow to the people who took Klaang."_

"_I fail to see your point." T'Pol ran her hands over his ears and down the back of his neck, almost tenderly, as if she were savoring the feel of him._

_Trip tried to focus on his anger, marveling at his attempt to maintain his control. Any other woman, and the conversation would have ended before it even began. "Captain Archer deserves the chance to see this through. If you knew him, you'd realize that's what he's about. He needs to finish what he starts. His daddy was the same way."_

_He was delighted to note that he seemed to have struck a nerve with T'Pol. She had to pause before replying, but continued to spread the gel over his back. "You obviously share the captain's belief that my people were responsible for impeding Henry Archer's accomplishments."_

"_He only wanted to see his engine fly," Trip said, turning to face her and emphasizing every word. "They never even gave him the chance to fail." Anger. Anger, anger, anger. He had to concentrate, because he was fast falling under the spell of those liquid brown eyes. Those eyes would be his undoing. "And here you are, thirty years later, provin' just how consistent you Vulcans can be."_

_He brushed past her and made to go, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to face her, surprised._

"_You seem to have some preconceptions about my people," she said. Her voice was soft and completely devoid of condescension. Trip was almost hypnotized._

"_Yeah, well, you've got some about mine."_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. I think it only fair to warn you that Vulcans are very thorough."_

_Now he was confused. Hell, this just wasn't his day. "What are you sayin'?"_

_She released his arm and held up the tube of decontamination gel. "I believe the doctor's instructions were to rub this gel all over."_

_He swallowed. "Yeah…?"_

_She stepped forward so that their faces were only inches apart and pressed the tube into his hand. They were so close that he could have kissed her with very little effort, and from the look in her eyes, she was thinking that same thing. But that was impossible._

"_I believe we have missed some spots."_

Trip woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. He angrily collapsed against his pillow and folded his arms over his face. How was he ever going to get any sleep if he kept having dreams like that?

Well, he was up for the day. There'd be no sleep after that dream. Hell, he was still half-aroused, and they hadn't even gotten as far as they usually did in his dreams. But thinking about that time in decon – their first real disagreement – made him wonder why in God's name they hadn't jumped each other's bones months ago. They'd obviously wanted to.

Trip swung his legs around and dropped his head. "Why do you do this to yourself?"


	16. Day 16

**Day 16**

T'Pol had settled on her next course of action. Obviously, it would be unwise to spend any more time with the commander in private. Their only interactions could be on the observation deck or in the mess hall, where there would be other passengers around. Having an audience would deter them from going where they had almost gone three days ago in Trip's quarters.

However, this new plan seemed to put them under a microscope. Now they were subject to scrutiny at all times with no chance of reprieve, for T'Pol would not allow herself to succumb to the illogical desire to retreat to her or Trip's quarters. They would have to deal with the scrutiny.

As they ate breakfast, T'Pol marveled at how quickly Trip had grasped the Vulcan language. That first day, T'Pol had been horrified at his pronunciation. It still wasn't perfect, but it was commendable. Not every human had Ensign Sato's ear for languages, but Trip would be able to manage quite admirably once they arrived on Vulcan. He would not impress anyone with his accent, unless they would be impressed that he bothered to learn the language at all.

It was for this reason that T'Pol decided to continue her part in their ongoing cultural exchange. She broached the subject as Trip absentmindedly ripped apart his _krei'la_.

"Commander," she said, and he glanced up at her, "I wish to learn more about your language."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're fluent. How much more do you need to know?"

"You have very…colorful phrases to describe things," she said. "I wish to learn some as well." She almost didn't believe that those words had come out of her mouth.

From the look on his face, he hadn't either. "Okay. Sure."

She could tell from his tone that he thought she was joking. "I am not kidding, Commander. If you can teach me some, it would greatly help relations with the crew. I do not like having to look up a reference after having a conversation with someone. I believe it would be much more efficient if I already knew what they meant."

Trip smiled and shook his head. "Only you, T'Pol, would make learnin' metaphors work-related." He sighed and sat back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying their conversation. "I wouldn't really know where to begin, so why don't you just throw back some of the things you heard me say and I'll explain what they mean."

"'Apples and oranges'," she said.

The smile on Trip's face faltered, but he recovered quickly, and T'Pol didn't think to press the issue. "Well, that's what we say when two things are basically the same."

T'Pol frowned. "But apples and oranges are not similar."

"Sure they are. They're both fruit. That's close enough."

_I shall never grasp the complexities of the human language_, T'Pol thought. But she was still willing to try. She wanted to make a concerted effort. "I see. What about 'taking it all in stride'?"

Trip shrugged. "That's taking it with a grain of salt. Handling something pretty well." He lowered his arms and leaned against the table. "You Vulcans are good at that. You seem to take everything in stride. You don't get overly emotional about anything."

"And 'birds of a feather'?"

He played with his fingers, cleaning the dirt out from under his nails. "Means people with similar interests tend to gravitate towards each other." T'Pol cocked her head to the side and watched the commander. He glanced up and met her gaze, grinning. "C'mon, T'Pol, gimme a hard one here."

She lifted an eyebrow and straightened in her chair. "While in the Expanse, I often heard the phrase 'get it on'."

Trip's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Who'd you hear it from?"

She was intrigued by his reaction. "No one actually said it to me. I only heard it in passing. But many crewmen applied the phrase to our situation."

Trip dropped his head. It banged against the table with a sickening thud, and T'Pol distinctly heard the commander utter a muffled curse before he brought his head up just enough to speak clearly. "People were sayin' that about us?"

T'Pol relaxed her posture enough to lean slightly forward. She lowered her voice to a level that hopefully would not be overheard even by Vulcan ears. "What does it mean, Trip?"

Trip half-rose from his seat to lean across the table closer to her. He, too, lowered his voice, so that his next words were barely a puff of breath in T'Pol's face. "Havin' sex."

Her mouth was suddenly dry. She remembered discussing with Trip the rumors that were circulating about the two of them. People were under the impression that when Trip came to her quarters, he received more than neuro-pressure. Surely the crew would have realized that T'Pol did not engage in what the crew deemed "casual sex" – but she had. Sort of. It hadn't exactly been casual. "Oh."

Trip sank back into his chair and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. T'Pol found herself focusing on that gesture, remembering the feel of his lips against hers. She was so lost in the memory that she almost didn't hear Trip's next statement. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. People are ignorant."

She looked down at the _krei'la_, which lay in pieces on the table, then looked back at Trip. "In this case, they are accurate. We did, in fact, 'get it on'."

He smiled halfheartedly. "That we did." His voice was wistful, and T'Pol remembered how hurt he had been the morning after being intimate, when she had brushed him off. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay. Next metaphor."

"'Humdinger'?"

He chuckled softly. "Not exactly a metaphor, but whatever you want, darlin'."

* * *

**A/N:** In defense of this chapter, it's difficult to think of things for them to do over 24 days.

A _krei'la_, by the way, is a biscuit.


	17. Day 17

**A/N:** I would just like to point out that I am not an engineer. In fact, I know very little about science and math, and that is why I was an English major. So if the stuff that Trip talks about doesn't make sense, please don't hold that against me.

* * *

**Day 17**

Trip hated the observation deck. It was too literal; every time he ventured up there, he immediately became the favorite thing for all the Vulcans to look at. Sure, the view was spectacular – the other day they'd passed a nebula that bore remarkable similarities to the Northern Lights – but it unnerved him, the way the Vulcans unashamedly stared at him. He felt like he was in a giant tank at the aquarium. When he was in the company of T'Pol, which he usually was, they glared at him, their eyes full of condescension. As if he gave a rat's ass about their opinions. He wanted to avoid the entire deck, but T'Pol insisted that it might be better if they were to remain in common areas as much as possible, to alleviate any gossip that might be forming.

"Gee, T'Pol, I thought you said a relationship between the two of us wouldn't be anyone's concern," he had said, throwing her a wink.

"I believe I said it would not be Lieutenant Reed's concern," she had said, and the smile vanished from his face. "But this is an entirely different situation and we must amend our behavior accordingly."

He knew that meant no touching in public, which he would never do anyway, but unfortunately she meant no touching at all – even in private. Clearly what happened when he touched her face had unsettled her and she was not anxious to repeat it. Unfortunately it was all Trip could think about.

So now it was business as usual between the two of them. Today they sat in their usual section, near the back and as far away from prying eyes as possible. She was reading another one of his books – _Catch-22_, which she kept saying was most illogical – and he was working on a simulation for upgrading the phase cannons. After the whole ordeal with the Xindi, he knew that weapons systems would be the first to be upgraded, but he had held _Enterprise_ together with nothing but spit and chewing gum for almost a year, and he'd be damned if he didn't have a say in what happened to her.

"Hey, T'Pol," he said, "when you come to a break, could you take a look at this for me? Double check my math?"

She glanced over at him and shook her head reprovingly. "Commander, you are supposed to be on leave."

He shrugged halfheartedly and began to chew on his pen cap. He knew T'Pol hated that. "You know me. I can't ever really get away from _Enterprise_. I'm tryin' to see if there's a way to up the range on the phase cannons."

T'Pol didn't look up from the book. "Have you considered increasing the amount of the ammunition?"

"Yeah, but won't the extra weight just add to the drag coefficient?" Trip spit the pen cap into his lap. It was difficult to talk with that in his mouth. "I mean, the added momentum'll carry the torpedoes farther, no doubt about that, but with all that additional weight? The two will probably just cancel each other out."

She placed a bookmark in her place and set the book on the seat beside her, leaning forward to examine his calculations. She took the PADD from him and scanned it, then met his gaze. "You do realize, Commander, that while you are here, the refit crew is already doing this to _Enterprise_. So any calculations that you may make will be pointless."

Trip smiled and shook his head. She was nothing if not direct. "Maybe, but it still feels good to do it. Like I'm actually helpin', even though I'm not there."

She went back to _Catch-22_, and Trip went back to his calculations. Idly he wondered if Solen would know how to increase the range of phase cannons. It had been a while since he'd seen the Vulcan. After their initial meeting in the mess hall, Solen had all but disappeared. He'd asked T'Pol about it, but he got the feeling that she wasn't telling him the whole truth. If they really were old friends, as she'd insinuated, then why hadn't she tried to contact him while they were both aboard the same transport? Was there something going on that she didn't want him to know about? And why had Solen acted like he had no idea who T'Pol was?

"Have you talked to Solen at all?" he asked, as casually as he could.

Something flickered in T'Pol's eyes and Trip frowned, concerned. But when she looked at him, her face was impassive. "No."

Trip raised his eyebrows. "I thought you two were old friends."

T'Pol shook her head. "I said that his father was a friend of my father's. I did not say that we were friends."

"You're not going to talk to him at all, then?"

She lifted one shoulder in a barely perceptible shrug. "If he passes, I will engage in conversation with him, but I see no need to seek him out." She lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

_Because apparently I have to_. "Just curious." He tossed the PADD on the chair beside him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Anythin' you wanna talk about?"

She returned her attention to her book. "No."

Trip sighed and leaned back in his seat. God, she was the most frustrating woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.


	18. Day 18

**Day 18**

T'Pol had only consciously avoided one person – Commander Tucker. It was after his symbiotic clone had confessed his feelings to her and then died to save the commander's life. Being in Trip's presence afterwards was awkward, and so she had minimized contact between the two of them as much as possible, limiting their interactions to neuro-pressure and anything work-related.

But now she was avoiding Solen for completely different reasons. Trip had become far too adept at reading her features, and she was afraid that he would surmise that she was hiding something. She had reason to believe that he was already suspicious about her relationship with Solen, and if the commander saw the two of them together, he might draw his own conclusions. That, or Solen would allude to their past in such a way that his meaning could not be misinterpreted.

So she wanted to make certain that Trip had no reason to become suspicious. She waited until she was positive that the commander would be asleep, and then she sought out Solen again.

Tonight she found him in the galley, a bowl of fruit on the table before him. He was again reading, this time an Earth book – _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_. Lieutenant Reed spoke of that author often, and with great respect. Apparently he was considered one of the masters, much like Surak only not to that extent. The lieutenant had pressed T'Pol to read one of Shakespeare's plays, but she never had.

"Hello again, T'Pol," Solen said. He didn't glance up from the book but reached for a _yon-savas_ from the bowl of fruit. "I thought you didn't want to see me."

T'Pol sat down across from him. "Why would you think that?"

He looked pointedly at her, one eyebrow raised. "Because you have been avoiding me."

"The fact that I have not actively sought you out does not imply that I have been avoiding you."

Solen pursed his lips. "Perhaps not. Was there something you wanted?"

Now that T'Pol had found Solen, she could not remember the reason she had wanted to speak to him in the first place. She searched her mind for a logical reason to have approached him in the middle of the night and responded with the first thing she could think of. "I wanted to know more about this upheaval you sense on Vulcan."

Solen set the book aside. "No, you don't."

His assumption and impudence angered her. She struggled to suppress the sudden surge of emotions she experiences and asked, "How can you be certain?"

"Because I know you, T'Pol. You want to make sure that I don't inform Commander Tucker of our past relationship." Before T'Pol could respond, Solen continued. "You needn't worry. It isn't my intention to cause problems between you and your mate."

T'Pol bristled at the suggestion, though she secretly relished the thought of Commander Tucker as her mate. It was something she had considered several times, and recently she had been entertaining the notion much more frequently. "The commander is not my mate," she said, in a very clipped voice. She did not wish to discuss this in the open.

She wanted to wipe the smug look off Solen's face. "T'Pol, I have said before, you do not make invitations lightly. For you to ask Commander Tucker to accompany you to Vulcan indicates that your…relationship with the human is more than that of colleagues."

"I resent your implication." She didn't, but it was the expected response to such an accusation.

"As would any self-respecting Vulcan. However, that does not make my allegations untrue."

T'Pol folded her arms across her chest and regarded Solen with a spiteful glare. "I suppose you are going to list the many reasons why a human and a Vulcan would not be compatible mates."

Had Solen been human, he probably would have been smiling. T'Pol could hear it in his tone, see it in his eyes. "Not at all. In fact, I knew a human and a Vulcan couple, back on Earth."

T'Pol's eyes widened imperceptibly. "I have heard of no such union."

"Of course you wouldn't. The High Command doesn't acknowledge them. They're social pariahs, of course, rejected by everyone. But they are illogically happy – or they were. They died several years ago. There is much to be said for succumbing to desire, though I personally value logic above biological needs. Tell me, have you ever read an Earth play entitled _Romeo and Juliet_?"

She blinked, surprised at the question and his quick transition from the seemingly impossible concept that a human and Vulcan were married. "I have not. Several of the crewmen on _Enterprise_ have made mention of it." She glanced around to make certain that they were alone, something she should have done earlier. "What does it have to do with myself and Commander Tucker?"

Solen reached for his book. "I suggest you ask your commander about it. I believe he will arrive at the same conclusion I have. Good night, T'Pol."

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, yes. Poor Solen was only a plot device, meant to move things along, but also because I needed to add another character, or I was going to run out of stuff for Trip and T'Pol to do.


	19. Day 19

**Day 19**

Trip looked down at the bowl of liquid in front of him, trying to remember what it was called. T'Pol told him when she'd brought it over, but he'd already forgotten. _Shur_, he recalled suddenly. Literally translated as soup. This was some kind of vegetable soup, and even though none of the vegetables were recognizable as food, it was actually pretty good. He would never admit it to T'Pol, but he was fast developing a taste for Vulcan cuisine.

Now that they were closer to Vulcan, Trip was becoming more excited. He'd never been to Vulcan before, as T'Pol had pointed out, and he was eager to do some sightseeing while they were planetside. A brief vision of he and T'Pol walking hand in hand along a moonlit beach flashed through his mind, but he knew that scenario would be unlikely, as Vulcan was a desert planet. But other than that, he realized he didn't know all that much about it. In all the years he'd known T'Pol, he hadn't ever really asked her about Vulcan.

"Hey, T'Pol," he said, downing another swallow of soup, "did you have anything planned for our vacation, or are we just gonna hang out at your mom's?"

She glanced up at him. "Did you have something in mind, Commander?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I've never been to Vulcan, and I really don't know much about it. But, you know, I kinda thought maybe we'd do some sightseein'."

T'Pol lifted an eyebrow. "Was there anything in particular you wished to see?"

"I don't know. Anythin' you wanna show me? I mean, it's your planet, so you should get to pick. Now, if we were goin' to Earth, I'd want to show you places that you just hafta see – like the Grand Canyon or the Great Barrier Reef. Any places like that on Vulcan?"

She reached across the table and grabbed his biscuit – he couldn't remember for the life of him the Vulcan name for it – and started tearing it to pieces, which she popped into her mouth. He hoped he managed to control his shocked reaction. She'd never done that before. "Well, I suppose you should see the Fire Plains. They are quite striking."

Trip grabbed a piece of fruit off her plate. She didn't even bat an eye, but he was sure the act had not gone unnoticed by the passengers who remained in the mess hall. "The Fire Plains, huh? Big tourist attraction?"

She gave him a look so completely Vulcan that he had to resist the urge to laugh. "Vulcan does not get many 'tourists', Commander. But, yes, I suppose it is a very popular destination."

"Anything else?" Trip asked, taking a bite of the fruit. He spit it out immediately, forgetting that the oblong ones were really sour. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and took a long drink of water.

T'Pol was quiet for a moment, absentmindedly tearing the pieces of biscuit into even smaller pieces. "The Shi'al province does offer some rather beautiful sites. The Caves of Kulvir are located there, as well as Da'Kum'Ulcha – 'the city of shadows', ancient ruins."

Trip nodded slowly. "Ancient ruins could be cool. Bet it's kinda like goin' to see the ruins in Rome or Athens or somethin'."

"I wouldn't know. I have never spent much time on Earth."

"You know, I've never been to those places either. Maybe, when we get back to Earth, we could go?" He'd meant to make it come out as a casual suggestion, but he was so nervous that his voice cracked at the end, making it sound like a question.

There was a flicker of amusement in T'Pol's eyes. She'd obviously caught that. "That would be acceptable, Mister Tucker."

He grinned and returned his attention to his soup. He and T'Pol ate in companionable silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "Commander, are you familiar with a play entitled _Romeo and Juliet_?"

Trip choked on his mouthful of soup. When he had managed to get it down and get his breathing under control, he glanced up at her. "Why do you ask?"

She stiffened. "I ran into Solen last night. He mentioned it. I am unfamiliar with it, although I do recall hearing Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato discussing it once."

Trip forced himself to smile. "Yeah, Malcolm's always tryin' to shove Shakespeare down my throat. He gave me a copy of his complete works last Christmas. I got it with me, if you're interested in readin' it. It's supposed to be the greatest love story ever told."

T'Pol nodded. "Could the play be compared to us in any way?"

Trip fought back the surge of glee that accompanied T'Pol's use of the word "us". He'd referred to them as an "us" numerous times, and while she never corrected him, she didn't do the same. "Well, Romeo and Juliet are what they call 'star-crossed lovers', 'cause their families hated each other, but they managed to fall in love anyway." He looked her directly in her big doe eyes. "And we're about as star-crossed as you get."

She nodded shortly. "I should very much like to read this play," she said, her voice soft.

He smiled – a genuine one this time. "I'll get it for you."

* * *

**A/N:** Again, many thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary.

Also, many thanks to those who reviewed! I promise you there's good stuff coming!


	20. Day 20

**A/N:** I apologize in advance for the cheesiness of this chapter.

* * *

**Day 20**

"_Captain's log: Two species, both alike in dignity, on fair _Enterprise_, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break forth to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life."_

_T'Pol swept across her room, her gown billowing behind her. She was in desperate need for her lover to come and remedy her loneliness. "Commander, Commander, whereforeart thou, Commander?"_

"_Um, T'Pol?" The voice came from behind her. "I'm right here."_

_She turned around and there he was, lying prone on her bunk, as if he'd been there for hours. But he hadn't been there only seconds ago. He sat up. He was shirtless, just as it should be – just as he should always be. Those foolish Starfleet uniforms angered her, as they prevented her from gazing upon his beautiful form as often as she wanted._

_She flung her arms out, inviting him to enter her embrace. "Deny thy father and refuse thy species. Or if thou wilt not be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Vulcan."_

_Trip shrugged. "Okay. Sure."_

_T'Pol crossed her arms and scrunched her face into the trademark pout she used only with the commander. "Commander Tucker, you are not adhering to the rules of this dream sequence."_

_He stood up and crossed the room in three easy strides. "I'm sorry, T'Pol," he said, cupping her face with his hands. "I was never a big fan of Shakespeare. I had to read his stuff in high school, yeah, but I – "_

_She stretched up to press her lips against his, silencing him with a kiss that turned her knees to water. When she pulled back, he was smiling._

"_Hell, darlin', whatever you want." He cleared his throat and whispered his next line into her ear. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and T'Pol is the sun." He nipped her earlobe. "And a very sexy sun she is."_

_T'Pol nodded, running her fingers through his hair. He shivered in response to her caresses. "'Tis but thy species that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, thou, not a human. What's a human? It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man."_

_Trip grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I know which part you're interested in, honey."_

_She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Commander…"_

"_Right. Sorry. Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief." He traced the edge of her bare arms with his index fingers, and she trembled. "You do realize that these are all out of order, right? We're not doin' the play right."_

_She cocked her head to the side, the mood broken. "It is highly illogical."_

_He chuckled softly and took her hands in his. "Love usually is."_

"_They did not need to die. Their decisions were not based in logic."_

_He sighed and tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting his hands on the small of her back. "The best decisions aren't made with logic, T'Pol. They're made with the heart."_

_T'Pol buried her head in his chest and deeply inhaled his scent. How she desired him. This illogical human, who was nothing if not arrogant, irrational, and frustrating, had wedged himself into her mind so forcefully that no amount of meditation could extract his presence. "What if the heart doesn't know what it wants?"_

_Trip nuzzled her neck. "The heart never knows what it wants. It only knows what it feels. So I guess the question is, how do I make you feel?"_

T'Pol's eyes snapped open. She slowly shifted into a seated position, turning over the events of the highly illogical dream in her head. Most unusual, that she should dream about the play _Romeo and Juliet_ inserting herself and Trip into the title roles. She wondered if humans had such odd dreams.

She reached over to turn on her light, suddenly in desperate need of meditation. As she arranged herself in the proper posture on the floor, the door chimed. She glanced at the chronometer. It was late, but there was only one person whom it could possibly be.

"Come in."

Trip opened the door and quickly stepped into the room. He looked uncomfortable. She could sense his discomfort from across the room. "Sorry to bother you so late, T'Pol," he said, "but I didn't know what else to do."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows, immediately concerned. "You have a problem, Commander?"

He sighed. "I can't sleep."

Her heart leapt into her throat, a most illogical reaction. "Do you believe you would benefit from a neuro-pressure session?"

"I tried to fix it on my own, but I can't." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor. "I need to sleep, T'Pol. I can't function much longer."

She nodded thoughtfully. "You should be rested before we arrive on Vulcan. If other methods have failed, it is only logical that you wish to undergo neuro-pressure."

He glanced up at her, his eyes shy. She had never seen that look in his eyes before. She found that she liked it. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, the last time we had neuro-pressure, we…"

He didn't need to finish, but she still found it suddenly difficult to speak. "We are both adults, Trip. We should be able to control ourselves."

The faintest traces of a smile graced his lips. "Emphasis on 'should'."


	21. Day 21

**A/N:** I can't write a love scene to save my life, but even so, this chapter is one of the reasons this story is rated R. Parental discretion is advised.

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**Day 21**

Trip hesitated outside of T'Pol's quarters. He hadn't wanted it to come to this. In fact, he wasn't entirely convinced that neuro-pressure would help his insomnia this time. The dreams that kept him awake at night were no longer about his sister, but about a shapely Vulcan science officer who was about to be touching him in a most intimate manner. He gulped and reached out to press the chime.

The door slid open before he got the chance. He stopped dead at the sight of T'Pol in her pajamas. God, but she was beautiful. He was a particular fan of the red pajamas, which was what she had chosen to wear tonight.

"Commander," she said, acknowledging him with a nod of her head. "If you would please make haste. If you are seen entering my quarters – "

Trip stepped inside of her room and shut the door behind him. The setting was eerily reminiscent of T'Pol's quarters aboard _Enterprise_, especially with the candles lit. The candles offered the only light, and if Trip closed his eyes, he could pretend that it was months ago, before they had slept together, before his life had gotten so damn complicated. But it would only be pretending, and his body refused to go along with his mind's decision. Already it was reacting to her presence.

"If you would kindly disrobe," T'Pol said. He made note of how her voice faltered at the last word. She took a breath, and he could sense her unease. He couldn't explain it, but he could tell that she was feeling as apprehensive as he was.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he said, but he made no move to leave. His body simply refused to obey, not that he wanted to leave anyway. But he couldn't do what he really wanted to do.

T'Pol shook her head. "You need sleep, Commander. If this is the only option, then we should proceed."

Trip held his breath and removed his shirt, tossing it onto the floor by her bed. Her eyes drifted downwards but quickly returned to meet his, and the atmosphere between them became instantly charged. Trip licked his lips and waited for instructions. He wasn't sure which posture they would start with, and usually T'Pol would tell him what to do. _Lie down. Kneel._ So he waited.

But she said nothing. Pretty soon the silence became electric as the two of them simply stared at each other. He noticed that her pupils had dilated, that her eyes were obsidian. His own breathing had become labored. His brain was beginning to fog.

He took a step forward, and T'Pol sprung forward as if propelled by some unseen force. Suddenly she was in his arms. Without thinking, his arms went around her, drawing her closer.

"T'Pol, I – "

She kissed him. He responded before his brain fully registered what was happening. He kissed her hungrily, passionately, desperate to suck the breath from her lungs. Her tongue slid along his bottom lip and he opened his mouth, anxious to deepen the kiss. He'd wanted this for so long. He dreamt about it every night – touching her, kissing her, devouring her. But they had to talk about this. He didn't want a series of one-night stands, however mind-numbingly passionate they were. He wanted a relationship with her, no matter how impossible it seemed, because it was his opinion that nothing was ever impossible.

Reluctantly, he broke from the kiss, breathless. T'Pol whimpered indignantly, and Trip felt his groin respond accordingly. He rested his forehead against hers. "T'Pol, we need to talk about this."

She kissed him again, and he let himself indulge for a moment before pulling back once more. "Please, T'Pol."

"We will talk tomorrow, Trip," she said. Her voice was heavy with something Trip feared to name. "I promise. But for now, please, I just want to feel."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Trip suspected she was lying, but at the moment, he didn't care. He lowered his lips to capture hers in another passionate, soul-melting kiss. He could kiss her all night, and if that were all he'd ever gotten, he probably would have been content to do just that. But since he'd had so much more, he wanted more. This just wasn't enough.

He probed her mouth with his tongue while he fumbled with the buttons on her pajama top. Without breaking their contact, he pushed the top off her shoulders and pulled her towards him, relishing the feel of her bare chest against his. He felt her nipples harden and moaned into her mouth.

She had taken the initiative again, and he loved it. But now it was his turn. He pushed her backwards until she met the edge of her bunk, but the momentum caused her to fall onto the bed. He covered her immediately, pressing her body further into the mattress and sucking on the exposed flesh of her throat. She moaned in response and he pulled away to look at her.

He absentmindedly reach up to cup her face as he leaned in for another kiss. She brushed the tips of her fingers against his temples. And suddenly, Trip felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams. His head exploded in a cacophony of sound, an excess of emotions, a blinding flash of light and colors. He could see the music, hear the colors, taste the emotions – not only his but hers, too. They were connecting, bonding, becoming one.

His last thought before he succumbed to a lust-induced haze was, _It's about fucking time._


	22. Day 22

**A/N:** Again, parental discretion is advised. You have been warned.

I didn't realize I left you guys with such a cliff hanger! All the chapters are already uploaded, and I just add a few each day, and I completely forget that Day 21 was the big day! Sorry, guys, but here's the rest of it, so enjoy!

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**Day 22**

T'Pol slowly came back to herself. She was vaguely aware that her name was T'Pol, and after a few minutes she was able to recall that she was in her quarters on a shuttle bound for Vulcan, but beyond that she was incapable of conscious thought. The only things she could recognize were the only things that mattered – the feeling of completeness that permeated all the way through to her _katra_ and the unique scent wafting from the man who lay partially beneath her.

Everything was just as it should be.

She couldn't remember the previous night in any specific detail. The only thing she could remember clearly was kissing Trip until she felt as though her lungs would implode from lack of oxygen, and then flashes of their various intimate encounters – but those were obscured by some kind of fog that had lodged in her brain. But while she didn't know exactly what they had done, she could identify the sated feeling burning in her belly. She felt utterly complete lying in Trip's arms. For this time there had been no alien wandering about the ship to interrupt them. There had been no awkward conversation, no miscommunication. There was just the two of them, enveloped in each other's arms, still joined physically, for they had been too exhausted afterwards to separate.

All was right with the world.

It didn't feel weird. It didn't feel wrong. It made T'Pol wonder why she had feared the feelings Trip stirred in her, why they had not always been doing what they had done last night.

T'Pol sighed, content, as Trip stirred beneath her. She began to roll off him, to allow him room to breathe, but his arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer, shifting so that she was now completely on top of him. They lay like that, stomach to stomach, for several eternities before Trip finally opened his eyes.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

She almost smiled with her lips, but refrained, choosing only to smile with her eyes. It seemed to be enough for him. "Good morning, Trip."

He groaned and pulled her closer. "God, I love it when you say my name. It sounds better comin' out of your mouth, darlin'."

She traced the outline of his jaw with one finger. "Then I shall have to say it more often."

He returned the gesture. "Yes, you shall." His face became suddenly serious, his eyes losing some of their sparkle. "You promised we'd talk in the mornin', T'Pol."

She lowered her lips to his chest and felt him tremble beneath her. She'd forgotten that she promised that. Last night she hadn't been in her right mind. She'd been far too affected by Trip's close proximity; the promise that they would discuss their actions in the morning had seemed the only way to appease him, to make him continue kissing her. "Must we?" she asked.

Trip grasped both of her shoulders and pushed her slightly off him, so that she could no longer reach his chest with her mouth. "Yes, T'Pol. We must. I don't want what happened last time to happen again. I can't bear to be shut out of your life again. I don't want you avoidin' me again."

"That will prove difficult, as you are staying in my mother's house."

"Please don't joke right now, T'Pol. This is important. I care about you. I don't wanna lose you."

T'Pol brought one of his hands to her lips and lightly kissed his knuckles. He shivered. "You will not lose me."

He released his grip on her and propped himself up on his elbows. She moved so that she was straddling his hips. "Am I just an experiment to you, T'Pol?"

She stiffened at the use of that word, at the implication that their intimacy meant nothing to her. "I did not use that word, Trip. You did. You were never an experiment to me."

"But what happened, you said it was just an exploration. That you didn't want an intimate relationship. And Vulcans don't lie."

She knew he was teasing even though it wasn't reflected in his tone. The sudden realization of how she knew that caught her off guard, and she froze as she remembered.

She had bonded with him.

She hadn't meant to, but she had.

His blue eyes filled with concern, and she knew that he could sense her unease through their bond, though he didn't know why. He felt that she was uncomfortable about what had happened, that she was rethinking the entire thing. She had to reassure him. She shifted against him, and he moaned as he began to harden again inside of her.

She pinned his arms to the bed and looked down at him. "I did not lie, Trip." His eyes were losing focus, but she could tell that he was trying to concentrate on her. "At the time, it was what I believed I wanted."

"And now?" His breathing was erratic; he was struggling to string two words together. "What do you want?"

T'Pol let her heart answer that question. "You." And she bent down to kiss him once more.


	23. Day 23

**A/N:** This chapter isn't as bad (like, rating-wise) as the previous two.

Again, many thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary.

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**Day 23**

Trip was in heaven. He had an armful of the most beautiful woman in the universe, and she was pressing against him in all the right places. They had spent almost two full days naked in her quarters, tangled together under her sheets – for the most part – and had barely been separated for more than a few minutes at a time. He couldn't care less that he hadn't eaten since the day before yesterday, and he didn't give a flying fuck what those stuck-up Vulcans on the shuttle would say when they saw him come out of T'Pol's quarters. All that mattered was that he and T'Pol were here, now, together – just as it should be.

And she told him that she wanted him. Everything else took a backseat to that.

He felt T'Pol press her lips against his ear and heard faint whisperings in his head. He tried to distinguish words but wasn't able to – and it wasn't for lack of trying. He got the feeling something had happened that night in her quarters. The last time he and T'Pol had made love – on _Enterprise_ – nothing even remotely similar to that had happened. He figured T'Pol knew what was going on, but – shocker – she wasn't saying anything. To tell the truth, he didn't really care. As long as she was with him right now, the ship could explode and he would die a very happy man.

Very little of his strength remained, as the past two days had drained him of most of his energy – and he prided himself on his stamina – but he managed to roll over so that he was covering T'Pol.

"I thought I heard you," he said, leaning in to trail kisses down her neck.

"I said nothing," she said, but her words were whispered in a sigh as he planted a kiss at the base of her throat. "You could not have heard me."

He lightly brushed his lips against hers, pulling away before she had the opportunity to respond. "Whatever you say, darlin'." He pulled back farther, pushing himself off of her, so that he could look her in her eyes. "You don't mind that I call you that, do you?"

She shook her head and slid her hands up his arms. "No. I am becoming rather fond of the endearment."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and the whispers returned. "Do Vulcans have pet names?" He felt her ask the question in his head, so he elaborated. "Pet names – like nicknames that you call the person you love."

She looked thoughtful for a moment and chewed on her bottom lip. He licked his lips hungrily. "The most common one is _t'hy'la_. It has many connotations, but it is refers to a good friend or a lifelong companion."

He traced the shell of her ear with his finger. She shivered, and he grinned. "So, what, I'm a good friend, then?"

She braced her hands more firmly on his forearms and pulled herself upward until their lips met. It was short and anything but chaste, and Trip felt his brain fog over. She lowered herself back onto the bed. "There is another term, but it became unfashionable after the Reformation because of its emotional undertone."

His smile widened. He liked where this was going. "What is it?"

"It is considerably more intimate than _t'hy'la_. It is rarely used. I have only heard it once – my father once said it to my mother."

She was prevaricating. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head down. "T'Pol, what is it?"

T'Pol blinked. "_K'hat'n'dlawa_."

He repeated it, though he could tell from a sudden wisp in his mind that he had done a poor job of it. He hadn't quite gotten pronunciation down. "What's it mean?"

She glanced away, focusing her attention on his clavicle. "One who is half of my heart and soul."

He was glad he was lying down, because he lost all feeling in his extremities. "And that's what I am to you?"

She looked back at him, and he felt his insides turn to water. "Yes."

He kissed her, pouring his heart and soul into it. She returned and deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was breathless when they finally broke apart.

She touched his lips with the tips of her fingers. "We should go the mess hall."

He shook his head and buried his face in the hollow of her neck. "I'm not hungry."

"You have not eaten for nearly two days."

He placed his lips on her ear. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm kinda in the mood for some dessert."


	24. Day 24

**Day 24**

T'Pol finished packing, though in truth she had never actually unpacked. She closed her bag and placed it on her bed, which had been made for the first time in three days. The blankets were neat, pristine, and bore no evidence of her and Trip's intimate encounters. The only evidence was the feeling of ultimate contentment in T'Pol's heart and the almost smile that graced her lips, neither of which could be detected by anyone other than the man whose presence lapped at the edges of her mind.

At first she had been disgusted at herself for initiating the mating bond with Trip without his knowledge, but now she was relieved. Her presence in his mind was comforting, reassuring. She liked that she could sense him no matter where he was, that she could feel out his moods.

She moved into the bathroom and examined her reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink. She had never been one for vanity, but she found herself illogically wondering what Trip would think of the outfit she had chosen. He'd never commented on her wardrobe before, other than remarking that she would look good in Triaxian silk, but she assumed it was because he didn't think it mattered to her. And it hadn't – until now.

The shuttle shuddered, and T'Pol glanced out the window. The familiar sight of Mount Tar'hana met her eyes, and so the familiar feeling of unease settled itself in the pit of her stomach. She was not looking forward to seeing her mother again. She and her mother had never gotten along. T'Les had objected to many of her daughter's choices, most notably her decision to call off her wedding to Koss and her decision to remain on _Enterprise_ – both due largely in part to the influence of one Commander Trip Tucker. While having Trip there would soothe her increasingly frazzled nerves, her mother would undoubtedly be angry.

No, her mother would never admit to experiencing such an emotion. "Unsettled" was probably a more accurate term. T'Pol only hoped that her mother would not make Trip feel uncomfortable. If there were any indication that T'Les would be less than hospitable to her _k'hat'n'dlawa_, then she and Trip would catch the next Earth-bound shuttle and spend the remainder of their leave in the privacy of her quarters on _Enterprise_.

She felt Trip's presence in her mind become stronger and knew he was approaching her door. She left the bathroom, crossed to the door, and opened it before he could ring the chime.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you knew I was comin'," he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He bent down to offer her a quick kiss, which she gladly returned, needing the reassurance of his touch. When he pulled away, he was frowning. "Are you okay?"

He must have been able to sense her discomfort. It was no use lying to him, and in any case, she was tired of doing so. "I am uneasy about seeing my mother."

Trip grinned. "A daddy's girl, huh?"

She was able to ascertain the meaning of that phrase through their bond. She nodded. "I was always closer to my father. He was more approving of my choices."

"So you and your mom don't get along?"

T'Pol tensed, and Trip placed a hand on her shoulder. She covered his hand with her own and met his gaze. "We remain civil to each other. But we have never been close. And I have not been home since my father died."

He pulled her forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love." He tossed his bags on top of hers. "Don't worry. I'll be there for you."

T'Pol wandered over to the window. "I am not certain that will help."

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He rested a hand on her stomach, splaying his fingers. "Maybe I can't help you with your mom, but I'm pretty good at easin' any tension you may start feelin' while we're there."

She felt his fingers slide up her stomach, underneath her shirt. She did nothing to stop him, and when his lips found her neck she titled her head back to give him better access. "Indeed. You are most proficient in that capacity." Her knees buckled as his lips moved from her neck to her jaw to her ear. "However, we will not be able to do this while at my mother's."

He laughed in her ear. "She can't be around all the time."

There was an abrupt change in the background noise of the shuttle. They were landing. T'Pol summoned all the self-control she possessed and pulled herself from Trip's embrace. She turned to face him. "We have arrived on Vulcan."

Trip smiled. "Glad to hear it, darlin'. Let's go face the music."

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**A/N: **And that's the end! Now, don't get mad. This is a story about what happened on their trip to Vulcan. Since they're on Vulcan now, the trip is over. This is meant to feed right into "Home" (season 4, episode 3). I was working on an elongated version of "Home" both from Trip and T'Pol's POV, but I kind of got sidetracked (like, months ago). I may start them up again, if I have the time. 


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